Telescope Eyes
by L.Lockheart
Summary: You see things. You keep quiet about them. And you understand. Bella has always lived life with her mouth shut, her eyes open. When she meets tragic Edward Cullen, it gets harder and harder for Bella to keep his secrets...AH, OOC, AU. Rated M - Abuse
1. Chapter 1

Summary : Bella realizes there is a very big chance that saving Edward Cullen was the worst mistake of her life. There's also a very big chance that it was the best.

Warnings : Language, slight Sexual situations, Themes, Possible Abuse/Molestation

Inspirations : AngstGoddess003's Wide Awake, Segolily's Daylight, Cuppycakes's Emotions Unaccounted For.

Ownage : Only my own plot. Everything else is Stephenie Meyer's. Pity.

Pairings : Mainly EdwardBella, AU, AH

A/N: Okay, so this is my first fanfiction for a very long time. I just saw Twilight yesterday, and I think they did a very good job. But hey, I'm optimistic. I can't help that. This is pretty dark, and even a little cliche. But, hopefully, you readers will enjoy it. This is AU plot, and pretty OOC, so no, none of this would probably really happen, even though I'm trying to keep some of Bella's and Edward's original character traits intact. Bare with me, folks.

* * *

Sometimes I have a moment where all I can do is laugh. Usually, when this moment occurs, I'm in my rusty, beloved truck driving down the streets from school to my home. I lived with my unbelievably oblivious father, who, has his life planned around the television. Which, after so months of living with him, I've grown used to. It didn't mean I liked it.

Right now was one of those moments. The rain was unusually happy today, which, by default, did not make very much sense. Most likely, it was my mood. I don't how or why this mood came by me, and it usually only lasted a minute of pure giddiness. It was like I suddenly loved everything - the obscene amount of green foliage, the gray skies, the rain, the broken heater, my cold fingers. I'd feel like an idiot after every time it passed, and then a little sad because it reminded me of my crazy, forgetful, mother. And then, I'd be back to normal.

Junior year here was nothing special. It was November now, the cold and wet rain now combining with harsh winds that whipped at my nose and tangled my hair. I didn't like it, but really, I couldn't do anything about it. Mostly, I was just bitter about Arizona. When I arrived here last year, March, of my sophomore, I was easily welcomed into the Forks resident cool clique, so to say. They were all nice, friendly, and kind of dramatic, but nothing compare the tall, blonde, overly tanned snobs back in Phoenix. There was Jessica, and Angela, who I was substantially close with, though I never really share any of my personal thoughts with them. There was also Mike Newton, my retriever friend, who I could really only be around in small quantities.

But I couldn't really complain - they were all nice enough to accept me into their group of friends, making me feel like everyone else. It was nice, to be normal. From the get-go I knew it wasn't going to last very long, however, to my surprise, it did. They kept smiling, and I would sometimes give them a grin. They kept inviting me to parties, and I would sometimes accept. I think this is what normal people would call friends, but I'm not sure.

When I got inside of my house, a small, little white house with barely a floor and a half, it was cold. I groaned, Charlie had obviously forgotten to turn the heat on before he left. It was no use now, the house was so old that the heat wouldn't actually start to work until about tomorrow morning. None the less, I turned it up anyway. Slipping out of the jeans I had bought at Port Angeles, I slipped into gray sweat pants and a large sweat shirt, which is what I usually wore at home. It was comfortable, plain, warm. Everything I liked in the world.

I sat curled up on my bed, opening my Trig book, skimming over the problems that I hadn't had time to do. They were fairly easy, and I felt pretty smart being able to do them. Sadly, this was about as much self esteem I had in my whole body. The cold house air was still, and silent, like it often was. Charlie had take up a higher job in the little town over, which paid more. He said he didn't mind the extra work, though he usually got home a later than eight. The clock read five, and I figured I might as well get dinner ready anyway, so that Charlie could heat it up when he got home.

Downstairs, I skimmed the cuboards for something to make, and decided for soup. I pulled out carrots, and onions and left over chicken and broth. I used a big pot from one of the below cupoards, stirring it occasionally. This, aside from the little spaz-fest I had in my car, was probably the most eventful thing I did today. It wasn't until a few minutes later did I realize I forgot my bag full of dirty gym clothes in my car. They needed to be washed tonight, and I stood up, slipping on my rain boots and my coat and venturing out in the rain. The sky was nearly dark, a soft blue and black clouds resting above me, my breath looking like cigarette smoke as I breathed out. I hurried to the car, hunching from the cold and bitter air. I grabbed the bag, turning back to head inside.

Something, however, caught my eye.

It looked like a black sweater lying there out in the over grown grass of my side yard. I don't recall leaving one of my sweaters out here, but I cared at least a little enough to take it in. It was raining, and I was doing laundry anyway. I squinted, the night becoming blacker though it was barely six. I truged along in the muck, my boots making a horribly gross squishing sound under the soft earth.

But I realized - with surprise, that it wasn't just a black sweater. It was a body inside a black sweater. A boy. His skin was pale and wet, and he was laying in such an awkward display that it looked like he was set there rather than lied. His lips looked a little blue and his eyes were closed; I could barely see his breath. My stomach flipped as I kneeled down into the mud to check on him. I could feel his pulse, though just barely. He was weak, and cold, so cold that it almost hurt to touch him.

And than, I realized who he was.

Edward Cullen was in my class last year, - when, of course, he made an appearance. He was a breathtakingly flawless boy, whom most girls at Forks, I learned, fawned over. But he seemed to isolate himself, rather than accept the people who so openly doted - or tried to dote on him. When I came last year, I thought he was quite full of himself.

Now, however, I was scared. This was not the same Edward Cullen that I remember, - not at all. He looked pale, and weak, almost like a little boy. All this thinking made my heart sped up indefinitely - I was wasting time, and he could be dying.

Throwing the bag over my shoulder, I grabbed one of his arms and swung around my shoulder, hoisting him up best I could. It was easier than I thought - he seemed to only weigh as much as I did. As I clutched onto him, I could his ribs through his pale, black, sweater. I threw the door open to my house, dragging his bedraggled form. He was still, scarily so, as I lied him on the couch. My hands flew to my hair as little tears seeped out of my eyes - somehow my panic seemed connected to my tear ducks, a humiliating trait of mine. My legs took me to the hall closet and I rifled through, looking for old blankets and old, thick cable socks.

He was covered in wet, sopping clothes, and I grimaced. I had paid attention to enough of my health classes to know he could die from the wet clothes, or go into a coma, or get deathly sick. I felt my face blush, even though he was unconscious, as I picked up his little sweater, slipping it over his head. I tried to keep my eyes off his chest, my face becoming almost purple as I unbuttoned his jeans and slid them off, leaving him in his little blue boxers. I kept my eyes away from his body, not even looking at it. I felt embarrassedly prude.

I put blanket after blanket on top of Edward as he lied there lifelessly. I took of his muddy and worn black converse, fitting on Charlie's old winter socks. But it didn't seem to be enough. I panicked, my hands running throw my hair in frustration. Though I didn't like Edward Cullen particularly, I wasn't going to let him die. I wasn't going to let him suffer. I took off my sweater, the large thing that it was, and threw back the blankets, before sliding it on his body. My arms prickled at the cold air of my house; I went to close the front door. My hands, though they were hardly warm, took his own hands, as I rubbed them together, trying to get them warm.

It seemed like hours of stress; I got a call from Charlie saying he was just going to spend the night as Abigail's, and for once, I was thankful. I detested Abigail for the sole reason of her interest of my father, because I didn't want him to get hurt like my mother hurt him. However, she made him happy, and I couldn't argue with that. The soup was still on stove, simmering peacefully, and I remember two hours ago when I was in my own little world. No Edward Cullen dying in my living room.

And then, his eyes fluttered. His eyes fluttered _open_. I sat very still has he moved his neck, his mouth opening and closing. The brillant colour of bronze surveyed the room before they landed on me. But he didn't seem shocked or surprise. He didn't even seem scared. Just cold. I let go of his hand, realizing with a blush that I had still be holding it.

"Are you okay? Do you need anything? Water? Soup? Crackers? More Blankets?" my brain seemed too fast for my mouth as I stumbled over my own words. He managed a little smile, snuggled deeper into the hill of blankets he was under. Moving his neck around he looked at the sweatshirt he was wearing. His eyes brows furrowed; he didn't recognize it. "It's my sweatshirt…" I muttered, blushing again and looking at my knees.

"Hi," he croaked, look at me with wide eyes. Again, he reminded me of a small, helpless child.

"I found you in my yard," I said to him, my eyes looking at his cheek bones. For some reason, I was scared to look into his eyes. "I thought you were dead."

"I would have been," he rasped. He seemed on the verge of tears.

I walked into my kitchen, ladling soup into a small bowl before bringing out to him. He was trying to sit up when I entered my living room again, and I frowned, setting the hot bowl of soup on the side table that held mostly pictures of me growing up. I put my hand on his lower back, looking at the couch cushion, trying to fight another blush coming on. I put my other hand on his hip, hoisting him up and setting against the arm. He looked down, shrugging father in the blankets, almost embarrassed as I was. I handed him the soup, and a spoon, and he mumbled a small thank you.

"So…" I spoke after a few minutes of hearing him slurp the soup. He ate like he hadn't eaten in days, which, by the look of his thin and bony wrists, the bags under his eyes, the protruding collar bone I saw, he probably was. "Why were you in my yard?"

"I didn't…mean to." he muttered, his voice still faint and weak. "I…think I just passed out."

"Why?" I asked, and then felt a little heat rise to my cheeks from my bluntness.

"I was…running away," he said after a few minutes. He looked down, his eyes staring into the half filled bowl. I frowned.

"Why were you running away?" I asked softly.

"Because," he said, his voice suddenly sharp and angry. I flinched at the intensity of it, and he collapsed farther into himself. "Because…" he said, like he was aching just from thinking of it.

He continued eating, and I went into the kitchen, putting a bowl of soup and wrapping it with cellophane for Charlie tomorrow night. I felt really, really, tired, a queasy feeling in my stomach as I washed the pot. Edward Cullen almost died. Edward Cullen was weak. Edward Cullen was a runaway. Edward Cullen was in my house.

This was real - I almost wanted to pinch myself. But that'd hurt, and I was coward even in that of little importance. In the living room, I took the bowl from Edward, putting it in the sink and washing it along with the spoon. I felt very stupid as tears dripped down my face, two gigantic weights making my shoulders sag. I locked all the doors and closed the blinds, shivering my tank top, the heat yet to kick in.

Edward was still in a bundle of blankets, his pale face regaining some color. I went to sit by him again.

"Is there anything I can get you?" I mumbled. His eyes were half closed, a small sigh resting on his lips.

"No, thank you. Bella." He mumbled, and I tucked in his blankets more, mulling over the very existence of him, and how he knew my name. I've never even talked to him. His eyes closed, again, and soon, he was fast asleep. You'd think he'd look peaceful, sleeping as soundly as he was, but even his expression in his slumber was pained, scared. I felt a strange need to touch him, to cradle him in my arms.

However, all I did was turn off the light and the face of Edward Cullen in my head, making it almost impossibly for me to sleep.

* * *

Review?


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary : Bella realizes there is a very big chance that saving Edward Cullen was the worst mistake of her life. There's also a very big chance that it was the best.**

**Warnings : Language, slight Sexual situations, Themes, Possible Abuse/Molestation**

**Inspirations : AngstGoddess003's Wide Awake, Segolily's Daylight, Cuppycakes's Emotions Unaccounted For.**

**Ownage : Only my own plot. Everything else is Stephenie Meyer's. Pity.**

**Pairings : Mainly EdwardBella, AU, AH**

**A/N: So I'm not one of those author's who freak about how many reviews they get, but I really do appreciate getting some, at least. And please, for my sanity, say something other than 'this is great keep going' or something like. I'm not being picky, I just want people to give this story a chance. Thank you :)**

* * *

My dreams, ironically, were covered in green, just like life outside. I usually didn't dream - though tonight, after I finally and painfully felt in a light and tense sleep, I dreamt. I was in the woods behind my house, the canopy of trees making it immediately dark and dense. I felt my body shiver, an unexplainable fear in my stomach as I looked around the vastness of the never ending green forest. I looked around, my eyes for some reason unknown to me unable to focus on anything. It was all just green, everywhere - some light green, some dark.

My stomach flipped as my breath became ragged, my feet rooted to the spot of the forest floor. There was no wind, it was still, very still, like there was no wind or air, for that matter. But that was impossible…then, my body tensed, the forest becoming dark - to almost pitch black, as I looked around, my breath ragged, my heart beating. That's when I heard it. Large, agony filled screams - ones of torture, of fear. I looked around into the darkness, hearing the screams but not being able to see them. Then, another scream, filled with unbelievable pain sounded, a --

The blue colour of my walls filled my sight, a photograph of Arizona hanging on my wall, along with various posters and other pictures. A cold sweat was covered me, and I felt immediately gross, my breathing hard and labored. It was just a dream - or a nightmare, more like. The feeling of fear did not leave me.

I almost fell out of my bed when I heard a large, agonized scream, just like the one in my dream. Then I realize it wasn't me who dreamt of those screams, they were interrupting my dreaming of the forest. I pounced in sudden fear, the cold floors prickling my hot feet as I sprinted down the stairs, almost fall flat on my face. I ran to the living room, another scream soundly, so shrill and horrific that I cringed.

My eye sight fell on Edward, who, was not on the couch anymore. No, instead, he was lying on his face on the floor, most of the blankets uncovering his body, which was scarily skinny and pale. I moved closer to him, as droplets of sweat covered his forehead, his eyes clenched shut, his beautiful face twisted in horror. I was almost scared to approach him. He opened his mouth, like he was going to scream again, but instead, he just whimpered, like a small, sick, puppy.

The uneasiness was replaced with an instinct. I had to protect Edward from whatever was going on in his head. I kneeled by his shivering, sweaty body, his legs curling into the fetal position. I placed my cool hands on his cheeks, cupping them, as he shook his shoulders in what seemed like terror. I bit my lip, patting his cheek as softly as I could.

However, he didn't stir. He seemed trapped in his nightmare, no, not even that. He seemed trapped in his own personal hell. I bit my lip, and hit his cheek harder, trying to revive him.

"Please, Edward. Wake up. Please!" I said, holding his pained face in his hands. My stomach flipped when his eyes opened to lock with mine. It was like he was dying - maybe already dead. His eyes were glassed over, with a blank, but terrifyingly so, tense look in them, the golden colour glowing in the dark living room.

In the back of my head, I was glad Charlie was out of town at the moment.

The blankness left his eyes, replaced by throbbing torment, almost as intense as the screams emitting from his mouth. Big, large, warm tears started to leak out of his eye as I held his face in my hands, the tears hitting my skin. He shuddered, more tears escaping his eyes. He looked utterly desolate; I don't think he was strong enough to hold in the salt sea of tears emitting from him. I felt like I was going to cry myself, as I felt my brow furrow. I scooped his feeble and starved body into my arms, cradling him and pushing him to my chest as tightly as I could. He wept, silently, his shoulders shaking as he buried his face in my stomach. I looked at the living room wall, my head blank, my lips pursed in tension.

I was in pain.

Because of his pain.

It was the most completely abnormal feeling I have ever felt, but I felt it, and strongly. It seemed like an eternity before I started to pull away. However, Edward, realizing what he was doing, tugged on my waist tighter.

"No," he choked. "Don't leave me."

It was a beg, a fearful plead, followed by his own shuddering breath, the shiver of his shoulders in my cold house. I soothed him quietly, clutching the sweat shirt I had lent him as he held me tighter, like I was all he had. Thinking about it, it could very well be that I was all he had. I realized I knew not one thing about Edward Cullen.

"I won't leave you. I won't." I promised before pulling away slightly. "Come upstairs, okay?" I asked, but as soon as the words left me, I regretted it. Again, I didn't know Edward Cullen, and I had just invited him to sleep in my bed with me. I sighed as he mumbled quietly, but my discontentedness was overthrown by the need to protect him. I stood up and he stumbled, his body obviously weakened greatly from the small hypothermia he had.

He bit his lip as he stumbled. I could tell he hated being so pathetic, but I took each step with him as he stumbled up the stairs. I pushed open the door to my room, and he look hesitantly at my bed, but I gave him a small, tiny push towards it. He crawled towards the far side of the bed, before curling into a ball, his chin resting on his knees. I looked at the clock and inwardly groaned; it was unlikely I'd get much sleep at all. My bed was still warm as I slid in, giving Edward as much distance I could muster in the twin bed that I had. I felt him watching me with his bloodshot eyes. I turned on my side to face his, as I searched his face.

The curve of his straight, perfect nose, the pout of his pink, plush lips. The slant of his naturally thick eyebrows, the frown in his skin, the salty tracks down his high and defined cheek bones, the almond shape of his big, yellow eyes. He was incredibly gorgeous, though I spent most of my sophomore year disliking him for his ill-judged arrogance. I still felt shaken by everything tonight: I never expect to Edward Cullen in this light.

Something in his life had turned wrong, I knew. Something had gone terribly, terribly, wrong. He stared into my eyes longingly, his fingers twitching to me, and it was then I knew he wanted to touch me, feel me. I was shocked, to say the least, first by his curiosity, and second, because I had read him so well. I scooted closer to him, so that I was almost touching him, and my backside didn't hang off the edge. Hesitantly, I lifted my hand, raising it to put it on his cheek. He watched in cautiously, his eyes curious and scared, like I was going to strike him, or worse. Lightly, and as delicately as I could, I set in on his smooth cold cheek, rubbing my thumb along his cheek bone. He stared into my eyes, though they were red and desolate, almost a hollow look. He bit his lip, and I cursed myself for thinking it was adorable, because he was doing out of inevitable insecurity. His fingers drifted towards me, almost gracefully so, to my wrist, which he held tenderly. I scooted closer to him - he almost pulled me, my body flush against his, his back pressed against the wall of my bedroom.

Our noses were almost touching. I could feel his breath on my upper lip, his questionable, broken eyes boring into mine, like he was trying to read my mind. His eye lids closed half way, as he stared at me through his thick lashes. My stomach flipped. This couldn't be happening. He pulled on my wrist, squeezing it a little bit under the pillow we were now sharing. My heart beat faster, the pulse in my neck throbbing, my breath halting.

His lips were on my mine as he focused my bottom lip. I could feel his timidity, and it was a little unsettling how completely and entirely vulnerable he was. It was only a second until I started to kiss back, my breath becoming labored with intensity. My hand moved from my cheek to his hair, as I raked my fingers through it and grabbed it, as his tongue darting into my mouth with sensible expertise. My eyes closed, my heart in the moment - for once, I didn't think about what I was doing, what was going on, what was happening. For once, all I thought about was how his hip bones felt against me, the way he clutched my wrist for reassurance, rather than power.

As soon as the kiss started, though, it ended. I stared at him, breathless, completely flabbergasted as to why he did that. Until tonight, I had been completely and utterly invisible to him. Until tonight, I hadn't spared him any thought but resentment and bitterness.

Until tonight.

"Bella," he breathed.

He didn't say anything else, just stared into my eyes, the silence of my house filling up the rooms, until, Edward's eyes fluttered to a close, leaving me to think about what the hell just happened.

* * *

**How dramatic :) Hmm, give this a chance? Pretty, pretty please? Review!**


	3. Chapter 3

The morning had come too soon. Much too soon. The alarm beside me blared into my ear as I sat up with fear and uneasiness. Edward blinked his eyes open, and I put my fingertips gently on his half closed eye lids, and they closed almost immediately. I ran my hand through his hair delicately before getting out of my bed. The house, I noted, was a lot warmer than last night. The sky outside was still dark, and I grabbed my school clothes - jeans, and a blue sweater, running into the bathroom to shower. The water was a little too cold to for my comfort, but I didn't care. I changed and brushed my hair, knowing it would just dry straight.

I had no interest in styling it too much, either.

I looked into the mirror, studying myself for a second. I looked thoroughly tired, my skin paler than usual in contrast to the gray circles under my eyes. My damp hair made my look small, and kind of ugly, my slumped shoulders lifting as I sighed in disappointment.

I made breakfast for myself, setting out cereal for Edward and a bowl and spoon. There was soup in the fridge still, which needed to be only reheated. I bit my lip, thinking of Charlie. I knew he wouldn't come home until about seven or eight tonight - he always hade a fresh uniform and all his necessities over at Abigail's. I packed my backpack, downing a glass of orange juice and grabbing my keys to my car. I wanted to badly to stay at home with Edward, but Abigail, even though she lived a town away, worked at Forks High School as a secretary. If I was absent, she would tell Charlie, and Charlie would come home earlier than necessary. And I couldn't have that.

I trudged upstairs to my room, closing my blinds to block out most of the light, as my eyes moved - almost pulled to Edward's magnificent form. He was lying on his back, his head turned to the side, his eyes closed. I bent over to pull my grandmother's patch work quilt she had made for me years ago over his still, sleeping body.

However, I guess he wasn't as asleep as I thought. My breath caught in my throat, almost choking me, as he caught my wrist in his grip. His eyes opened wider as he noted my over coat and keys in one hand.

"Where…where are you going?" he asked, and I bit my lip. I couldn't help but want to surrender, to climb right back into bed and fall asleep, but I knew that it was too risky. I couldn't have Charlie coming home early and finding Edward Cullen in my bed with me. Hell would have to be paid.

"School," I whispered, and he bit his lip. "But I'll come right home, and there is food in the fridge."

He nodded, rolling around to face the wall, tucking his legs to his chest. I sighed almost inaudibly, none the less pulling the blanket to his neck and closing my bedroom door behind me, locking it from inside.

The air outside was as cold and bitter as last night, as my shoulders hunched against the stroke of wind that pushed against me. The roads were slippery as I drove down the streets towards my school. My chest was unusually heavy as I sighed, my mind unable to think of anything but Edward. I didn't know what was going on, or how to explain it.

My first class was almost unbearable. It was almost impossible to think about school, let alone stay awake. My teacher gave me a stern look as he passed back my test, and my stomach dropped when I thought I had failed it; but he was merely glaring at me because I wasn't listening to him when he called my name. The classes seemed to smear like wet ink one another and I was actually surprised when the bell rang for lunch. I made my way to my usual table which I shared with Jessica, Angela, and Mike and everyone else, my eyes feeling heavy and I slumped into a seat.

"You look tired," Jessica stated, as Mike came to sit down, kissing her gently.

"Yeah, well, I am." I moaned. Jessica quirked an eyebrow at me, before looking back at her lunch and talking with Mike. I easily tuned it all out, resting my chin on my arms. My eyes drifted from table to table, before my stomach flopped uneasily. _Of course_.

At the opposite end of the cafeteria sat Alice Cullen - along with Jasper. Like Edward, they all shared similarly amazing genetics, though only Alice was actually related to him. Both all looked especially glum - they sat around their table staring at their food, they're mouths closed, they bodies unmoving. I took a deep breath, and sat up straighter, contemplating what I should do.

She - Alice - were Edward's family - sure they were wondering where on earth he was. I bit my lip, harder this time. However, Edward had run away for a reason - and he had stayed away. It looked like he had stayed for a while, considering his starved and pale physic. But the look of Alice's isolated, depressed look had me out of seat and approaching their table. I could feel Jessica and Mike's eyes on my back, eyeing with curiosity, most likely. I tried to muster as much confidence as I could before sliding into the only empty chair at their table - Edward's chair.

Two pairs of eyes turned on me at once, making me turn beat red. I took a deep breath, before turning directly to Alice Cullen, her sweet, beautiful face looking painfully torn. "Alice?"

She looked at me, her head cocked to the side.

"Alice, where is…your brother? Where is Edward?" I asked, trying to muster the last ounce of courage I had left. Her expression turned dark, but not angrily so; just scared, like it wasn't obvious at all that he had been missing for most like more than two weeks. I could feel all of their eyes burning into me, and out of the corner of my eye I saw Jasper looking at me with protective intensity. I cowered.

"Why? Do you know where he is?" Alice's lofty, influential voice snapped at me, and I cringed at her undecidedly. Jasper sent me a reproachful look, putting a hand on Alice's arm, as if to comfort her. It seemed to, as her grimace was gone and the rough stare of her eyes just barely lingered.

"I…" I bit my lip. "How long has he been gone?"

"Two weeks and four days," Alice said, though her voice and face softened; if my brother had gone missing I don't know if I would be so patient. I squirmed in my seat, regaining feeling in my legs again. The bell rang, surprising me, as I jumped up and made my way to my next class. I could hear Alice's voice call after me, telling me to wait for her, but I panicked. I almost ran down the hallway and darting into my Biology class, taking my seat near the back of the room. My breathing was labored - and I shook my head, holding my hair in clumps with hands - I realized my mistake only too late. I was sure that the Cullen's didn't know where Edward was, and I wanted to keep it that was. I had to protect him, I repeated myself. He needed to protected.

Biology, my last class of the day, unfortunately seemed to take hours. But I knew it was only impatience. Finally, the bell rang, and my head was filled with nothing but Edward and my anxieties. As I ran to my car, paranoid that I was going to run into Alice or Jasper. It had only then occurred to me that Edward might not even be there - he could have left, running away like usual.

But the way he looked this morning - so depressed that I was leaving, even if, it was only for six hours, made me a little more confident that he would be there. I sped a little more than necessary, knowing my father would immediately look down at that, seeing as him being a cop and all. For once, I didn't care about what other people thought, even my father.

The house was warm, with the heat being out all night, and I slipped off my muddy shoes and my bag at the door, locking it behind me. I ran a hand through my hair before running upstairs. I couldn't help but be excited. The door to my room was locked, and I picked up one of the keys I had in my pocket to unlock it. Surveying the room, and to my abating fear, it was empty. The bed was unmade, the room looked just like it had the day before all this, the day before Edward. A cold, bitter breeze lifted through my air and I shivered, looking at my bedroom window.

My stomach flared unpleasantly. God damn, he could at least have used the door downstairs. No need to be drastic.

I peeked my head out the window, looking around for any sign of him in my yard, though I knew it was hopeless. The sky was gray, as usual, when I looked up. What was not usual, however, was the tip of a quilt that I had put on Edward downstairs on the couch. Standing on the ledge of window, my breath quickened as I hoisted myself up onto the sloping roof, coming face to face with Edward, who was wrapped in a blanket, staring out into the woods.

"Hi, Edward." I murmured softly, and his head turned to look at me, and I noted his eyes didn't look as sad as before. That was a good sign, I guess.

"Bella," he muttered softly. He opened the blanket and I crawled under it, surprised by how much warmth he know held. "Was school…good?"

"No," I said, before biting my lip and taking a deep breath. "I tried to talk to Alice today. She is very worried, Edward, very worried about you."

He turned rigid, his face turning into a state of pain and bitterness. "They don't give a shit about me."

I shook my head. "Alice was crying during lunch," and his body softened almost immediately, slumping against mine in defeat.

"Why did you run away?" I asked him, as he turned to look at me, study his eyes with my own. His cheeks were tinted pink from the wind out here, and my fingers felt like frozen popsicles. I shuttered under his intense gaze, my breath materializing in front of me.

"Because I had to." He stated after a few minutes. No. That wasn't good enough, I needed to know more. The tug was there again, to protect him from whatever was at home. But I couldn't protect him if I didn't know what it was, if I didn't know how to fight whatever I was against. I sounded like a warrior, I thought ironically to myself. Yeah, right.

"Why?" I asked again. He turned to me, his face in anger more than sadness now. I cringed from the tension, the wind whipping around us again. He eyes faded back to their usual pained state, before he shook of the blanket and pulled himself down under and back into my room. I sighed, running my hand through my hair and dragging the blanket down, tucking it underneath me as I pulled myself back into my room and shutting the window. I turned around to look at Edward.

"Edward, I think I should know." I stated, a new found courage coming to me. Perhaps it was lack of sleep that was making me so…blunt and affirmative, but I truly did want to know. He sighed, backing himself into the corner of my room.

"You don't need to know anything." he pressed, being stubborn. I shook my head vehemently.

"When I found you, you were almost _dead_. You were so pale, Edward. What are you running away from?" I felt my voice raise an octave higher, my face turning a little red from frustration. He looked beyond patient, his cheeks flushing a soft pink as he stared at me, his gold eyes suddenly filled with hatred, but also, I saw torture. Whatever was going on inside of him was killing him.

"Please, just tell me. You can stay here, but I want…I want to know." I stated, nodding my head and pursing my lips. At the second he looked so distant, his expression changing from one second to the second.

"I…why do you care?" he spat out, though I knew he almost afraid of my answer. My stomach turned and I felt myself physically moved back from him, like the words had pushed me away. I shook my head, frustration filling my entire body.

"I don't know, Edward."

"You don't know."

My voice was strung from frustration, from trying to grasp whatever it was that hurt him, my fingers in my hair once again as he stood in the corner, watching me with a torn expression his face. He was trying to control his emotions, but he was failing - his eyes were wide, like he was unsure he was even awake.

In the back of my head, I wondered why I had such an impact on him. But he was right - I didn't know why I was doing this, why I was saving him. He had nothing but indifferent and rude to anyone and everyone around him last year, and this year, and he had never spoken to be, let alone look at me before this.

But to see someone so downright broken - so fucking tormented - I didn't have a heart of steel. I couldn't possibly look away. I whipped my frustrated tears away before I made a real fool of myself - a feat I usually accomplish every day. Edward was now standing in front of me, his hands hesitant as he touched my face, looking into my eyes soulfully.

"I'll tell you…just…give me some time, okay?" he pleaded, and I nodded, wrapping my arms around his shoulders as he snaked his arms around my lower face, pulling me into him.

Time. The thing I didn't know is that with Edward Cullen, I had everything but time.


End file.
